Friday's Child (28 page)

“Yeah, right.”

“And don’t you give me the ‘she hurt you so you are gonna hurt her back’ line either, because that doesn’t work. It just makes things so much worse for everyone involved. Including you.”

Abbie glanced sideways at him and then looked back at the wall. “And how would you know?”

“Abbie, the last few days have turned everything we thought we knew on its head. Elle found out she was adopted and her father, birth mother, and brothers were all involved in the drug trade. Cut her some slack, will you? She’s a victim, too.”

He took a step closer and Abbie didn’t move this time. “I found out I had a daughter I didn’t know about. You found out your parents weren’t who you thought they were.” He knelt in front of her, his hands on her shoulders. “You’ve been shot at, kidnapped, lost your grandmother. We are all hurting right now, but what you don’t want to do is throw away your family, because in the end they are all you have.”

Her face softened, then the hard mask came down again. “Whatever. Just go back wherever you came from. I managed almost fourteen years without you. I don’t need you now.” Abbie pushed past him, running to the stairs.

Elle stood. “Patricia Abigail Harrison, you get back here now.”

“Get stuffed,” came the angry reply. “And my name is Abbie.” Her footsteps thudded down the stairs and away from them.

“I’m sorry,” Patrick said, leaning heavily against the wall. “I thought I’d gotten somewhere.”

“So did I.” Elle moved after her daughter.

Patrick’s father appeared as if from nowhere and caught hold of her arm. “Let her go,” he said. “She can’t get out the front door and the garden is enclosed.”

“I can’t just let her go,” Elle said, looking at Patrick and back to his father.

Mr. Page nodded. “That’s exactly what you have to do. I know from bitter experience that the last people she is going to want to see or talk to right now are you two. Just give her time to think all this through. She’s just had a huge bombshell dropped on her.” He looked at Patrick. “You both know exactly how she feels at this precise moment.”

“That is why I should go after her, Dad.”

“No. Give her some space. Otherwise it will turn into a fight with both of you saying something you end up regretting for the next twenty years.”

Elle looked at Patrick for a long moment and nodded.

Mr. Page nodded. “Now, the two of you need to eat some breakfast. That should give Abbie enough time to calm down.”

“Thanks Dad. We’ll be down in a few.”

Elle studied her hands, tears sliding unbidden down her face. “Made a mess of that, didn’t I?”

Patrick wrapped his arm around her. “We both did. I guess she’s just got to work through this for herself.”

“She was right. I used double standards on her. The old ‘do what I say not do what I do’ routine.” She leaned into him heavily. “What have I done?”

“You did what you had to,” he told her. “But it’s where we go from here that matters.”

“Guess only God knows that,” she managed, trying to swallow the huge choking sobs.

Patrick nodded. He held her close, starting to pray.

****

Patrick opened his eyes. He had dozed on the couch, Elle resting against his good shoulder. Pain and a cramped arm woke him, but he didn’t move. He flicked his gaze first to the clock and then to the patio window. Abbie was still on the swing where she’d been when his eyes closed on him.

Liam smiled at him. “How are you doing?”

“Not great. Sorry, I hadn’t intended to sleep for three hours.”

“It’s fine, bro. You needed it.”

“I guess. So tell me, why is it I can talk down terrorists and gunmen holding women hostage, but can’t cope with a thirteen year old?”

“Kids are a minefield. Take that from one who works with them on a daily basis. Abbie’s a good kid. I’ve sat with her, talked with her a little.”

“And?” Patrick allowed a spark of hope to burn.

“She’s still pretty upset, hence being out there and not in here. She’s reached the ‘I’m worthless’ stage. Give her another hour or so and she’ll be ready to listen to you.”

“Maybe.”

Elle shifted and sat up slowly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“It’s fine, love. I did too.”

“Where’s Abbie?” Elle got up and turned around wildly.

“She’s in the garden,” Liam said. “Three of Patrick’s team are with her.”

Elle moved stiffly over to the window. She stretched slowly and leaned against the glass.

Patrick rose and joined her. “If she went any higher on that swing, she’d end up flying.”

“Like someone else I know,” Liam said from behind him. “Every time Patrick got into a strop over something, he’d be out there on that swing as hard, fast and high as he could. He even broke it once, do you remember?”

“Yeah. The swing went one way and I went the other. I landed in the roses and the swing ended up on Dad’s runner beans.”

Patrick wrapped his arm around Elle, pulling her tight against his chest. He leaned his head against hers. The scent of shampoo and perfume filled his senses. How could things have gone so wrong? A simple case had become a nightmare.

He watched Abbie as she moved back and forth on the swing, holding tightly to the rope with one hand. She kicked fast, going higher and higher until she was flying. Tears streamed down her face, visible even from here. She glanced over at them, then looked away, kicking harder. Liam was right, she was like him in that respect. He’d spent hours doing just what she was doing now. The others would storm off to the bedroom and slam doors. He’d run to the swing and go as high and fast as he could.

He remembered the freedom he’d felt in that—

Abbie’s head lolled back and her hands fell to her sides. Her thin body flew through the air before landing hard on the ground.

“Abbie…”

Patrick ran down the path, Elle at his side, Liam behind them.

She lay motionless, a trickle of blood coming from her mouth.

“Abbie…” Elle screamed. “Abbie, open your eyes.”

Patrick felt for a pulse, raw terror twisting within him. “Liam, call an ambulance,” he yelled. “Elle, don’t move her.”

“Abbie…”

He stilled her hands. “Don’t move her, love.”

She looked at him, tears running down her face. “Patrick…”

“I know. But everything’s in place. If need be we just do the transplant a little earlier.”

27

Patrick sat with Elle next to Abbie’s bed in ITU, Elle’s cold hand clasped tightly in his clammy one. He felt sick. Abbie still hadn’t regained consciousness and her life signs were a lot lower than the doctors were happy with. He glanced up as the surgeon came over to them. He wore scrubs and had a stethoscope around his neck. The doctor’s serious expression sent chimes of doom resonating though Patrick and judging by the way Elle stiffened, she felt the same way.

“Doctor?”

“It’s not good. The MRI shows the fall did additional damage to her liver.” He opened the file and went into more detail.

Elle gripped Patrick’s hand tightly, leaning against him.

“Then we operate now,” Patrick said.

“Mr. Page, even if we do, she only has a twenty percent chance of making it.”

“And if you don’t?”

“She’ll die.”

Elle gasped. “No.”

Patrick looked at her, then looked back at the doctor. “Then do the surgery now.”

“You are in no fit state to do anything yourself. Your arm is…”

“Doc, I’m not going to argue with you. It’s not my arm you need, it’s my liver.”

The surgeon nodded. “I thought you’d say that. I have the theatre standing by.” He nodded to the nurse. “We’ll take Abbie up now and get her prepped.”

“What do I need to do?”

“We’ll need you about ninety minutes after we start Abbie’s surgery. The nurse will show you where you can shower and change. Then we’ll take you upstairs.”

Elle leaned over the bed and kissed Abbie’s forehead. “I love you. I’ll see you soon.”

Patrick stood numbly then leaned over and kissed Abbie too. He held Elle as they wheeled Abbie’s bed from the room.

“What if I lose both of you?” she whispered as they followed the bed into the hallway.

“It takes more than a little surgery to get rid of me,” he whispered. He tilted her face to his. “I’m not giving up just yet.”

Elle held his gaze. “Promise?”

“I promise.” He closed his eyes and kissed her, his good arm pulling her tightly against him.

She clung to him, responding to the kiss, accepting every ounce of love he poured into it.

Breaking off, he brought his hand up to cradle her face. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

If only there was a way to prove to her just how much he loved her. He glanced past her to see Pastor Jack standing next to his parents. An idea struck him so quickly, and with the force of a thunderbolt, that it could only have come straight from God. “Pastor, can I have a quick word?”

“Sure.”

He moved over to him and whispered quickly. Getting the response he was hoping for, he smiled and looked at the nurse. “The doc said ninety minutes. Is it all right if I spend an hour or so with my family?”

The nurse nodded. “You can have an hour, but no longer.”

“Thank you.” He returned to Elle. He took her hand and dropped awkwardly to one knee. “Marry me.”

Her eyes sparkled with tears. “Patrick?”

“Marry me, now” he repeated. “We wasted the past fourteen years, I don’t want to be without you a second longer.”

“Now?” She glanced around. “Right here?”

“In the hospital chapel. Pastor Jack can do it.”

“What about Abbie? Shouldn’t she be here?”

“Love, with all the risks this surgery entails, I want you to know how I feel. We’ll do it again with Abbie as chief bridesmaid once she’s better.”

“Then, yes, I’ll marry you.”

He gripped Elle’s hand tightly. He nodded to his parents and the others to follow them down the hallway to the small chapel.

He led Elle to a pew at the front and twisted to face her.

“Can we do this? Is it legal?”

Pastor Jack nodded. “You’ll need to do it again once the banns have been posted, but yes. As far as God and the church are concerned, you’ll be married.”

Patrick looked at her. “I love you.”

Elle smiled and stood with him, repeating the vows Pastor Jack said.

Patrick pulled his college ring off his finger and, wincing, gripped her hand in his injured one. “With this ring, I thee wed. With my body, I thee honor and all my worldly goods I thee impart.” He slid the ring onto her finger.

“It’s endow.” Elle giggled.

“Is it? Oh, OK. In that case, all my worldly goods I thee endow.”

“I don’t have anything to…Oh, wait, yes I do.” She reached up and pulled the scrunchie from her hair. She slid it over his wrist. “I give you this scrunchie as a sign of the covenant made between us this day and a pledge of our mutual love.”

A guffaw came from in front of them. “I assume you’ll do it properly when I marry you next time.”

Patrick winked at Pastor Jack. “Of course. She’ll have a gold plated scrunchie next time.”

Laughter came from behind them.

“Sounds good to me,” Elle said.

“Now that Patrick and Elle have given themselves to each other by solemn vows, with the joining of hands and the giving and receiving of a ring and a scrunchie, I pronounce that they are husband and wife, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Those whom God has joined together let no one put asunder. Amen. You may kiss the bride. And then we’ll pray and ask the Lord to watch over all of you and for the surgeons.”

Patrick wrapped his arm around Elle and pulled her close. “I love you, Mrs. Page,” he whispered before his lips joined hers.

****

Patrick stood under the shower, the plastic razor in his hand. His hand shook and he prayed desperately he wouldn’t cut himself. The nurse had offered to do it for him, but he refused. That was one thing he’d never allow anyone to do. He just hoped his chest hair would grow back. Five minutes later, clean, completely shaven and dressed in the very fetching open-backed gown they’d given him, he wrapped the robe over the top and padded out into the hallway.

His entire family stood there. Elle looked like she’d been crying, as did Niamh and Mum. He stood there and looked at them. “All I need now is the last meal and the last rites,” he quipped.

Pastor Jack shot him a wry smile. “I can do the Baptist version of the last rites if you want.”

He shook his head. He moved over to his mother and hugged her. “Don’t cry,” he said. “This isn’t goodbye.”

One by one, he hugged his family and kissed them. By the time he got to Elle, he had tears burning his own eyes.

She looked at him, her eyes red and tears pouring down her face. “Pat…”

“Elle, please.” He wrapped his arm around her. He closed his eyes tightly, a huge lump in his throat. “I’m not scared for me, but for Abbie,” he whispered.

“Me, too, but for both of you. Maybe my guardian angel will watch over you and Abbie for a few hours.”

“Maybe.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you back. I always have.” His lips found hers and he kissed her, not caring who was watching.

The door opened and the surgeon came out. “We’re ready for you.”

Patrick nodded and slowly let go. “See you later,” he said. He forced himself to leave Elle and follow the surgeon through the double doors.

His mouth dried as he looked at the gurney with all the equipment next to it. He took off the robe and sat down. His heart pounded and he shivered. Then a heavenly peace descended over him. He glanced up and for an instant saw a bright figure in the corner of the room with a sword and wings. It could only be the angel that Elle had described.

He winced as the nurse removed the sling and his arm dropped.

“You ready?”

“Yeah, let’s do this.” He lay down and looked up at the ceiling.
Please, God, don’t let this be for nothing. Let it work and heal Abbie.